Chapter 16 #2
The light of mischief returned to his eyes. “Oh, I hope you do. If I fail, I give you permission to cover my entire face in Fu talismans.”
“That seems like a waste of spells.”
“Then I give you permission to make me drink ginseng tea for a year.”
“A year?” I put my finger to my chin. “That’d mean I’d have to share your company for a whole year to ensure you follow through.”
He laughed again. “Would that be so terrible?”
“You’ve hardly impressed me thus far.”
He feigned a wounded expression. “How merciless.”
A small laugh escaped my lips, surprising us both.
Ren grinned, forgetting to fake offense. “Is my pain that amusing to you?”
I blushed, which only made me more self-conscious. “Of course not,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” His smile gentled as he tried to hold my gaze. “I was merely teasing.”
That was obvious. But something about the playful air between us made my skin feel unusually hot. I silently chided the autumn air for doing me no favors.
“Come on,” I said, changing the topic. “That’s enough chitchat. We have a spirit to find.”
Ren saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
I shook my head at him as I started walking off.
We spent the entire night scouring the town limits for signs of an evil spirit. Feilin had described Master Zhang as an old man with a thick beard and green robe. His eyebrows were so bushy, she said, they swallowed his eyelids.
We searched the fields, finding nothing but rows of pathetically small cabbages and leeks waiting for harvest. Afterward, we located the pond east of the town and walked its entire length, roughly two acres, scanning for a flash of anything unusual.
I even shook my bells to draw the spirit’s attention—or annoyance. Nothing appeared.
By the time dawn approached, both Ren and I needed a reprieve. We returned to Feilin’s house, where we’d been invited to stay for the remainder of our visit. As it was only the two women living there, they’d offered us their extra room, now used for storage and the occasional visiting relative.
“Is this supposed to be a rug?” Ren asked, holding up one of the woven mats that the Lis had provided us with.
“It’s a sleeping mat,” I told him before I noticed I was smiling in amusement. Honestly, I exasperated myself. Why was everything about Ren—from his jokes to his questions to the way his mole winked when he smiled—suddenly endearing? That was a distraction I didn’t need.
I unrolled my mat beside the wall to resist looking at Ren. But as he watched me smooth it out, he said playfully, “Should we put ours together for warmth? I doubt the candle will burn through the night.”
“There isn’t much night left—”
I glanced up only to realize that he was standing right beside me, his rolled mat propped casually on one shoulder. Flustered, I pointed to the opposite wall and blurted, “Go sleep over there!”
Ren laughed softly, tilting his head down to catch my eyes. “I didn’t mean it, Siying. What kind of prince do you take me for?”
Thankfully, he stepped back as he spoke.
“A terrible flirt of a prince,” I snapped, sitting down on the mat and pulling a blanket over my legs.
His mouth quirked sideways. “You think I’m a flirt?”
“I think nothing about you.” I lay down and flipped over to face the wall.
Even though I could no longer see his face, I could still hear the warmth in his voice as he said, “That’s too bad. I would’ve been flattered if you did.”
“Good night, Ren.”
Another quiet chuckle. “Good night, Siying.”
I woke to the smell of fish frying. Turning my head, I saw that Ren’s sleeping mat had already been rolled up and stored neatly against the far wall.
Immediately concerned, I leaped out of bed and yanked my arms through the sleeves of my overcoat.
Then I hurried out of the narrow room to find Feilin’s mother chopping garlic in the kitchen.
“Ah, you’re awake already?” The older woman glanced up from her task. “Your friend said we shouldn’t disturb you.”
“Where is he?” I asked, drawing closer to the worktable.
“Outside,” Feilin answered instead, walking through the front door with a lumpy sack in hand.
She grinned at me, seeming much more relaxed since our first meeting, though shadows still hung from her eyes and her dry lips cracked when they moved.
“He said he wanted to gather intel from the neighborhood aunties, but it appears to me he’s gotten himself stuck listening to them complain about their children. ”
I scrutinized her face for any sign that Ren had revealed who he was. But the young woman seemed entirely unfazed, moving casually to her mother’s side.
“Here are potatoes from Auntie Geng,” she said, laying the sack against a counter.
“Wonderful,” said her mother. “We can use them for stew.”
“Are you hungry?” Feilin said, her attention returning to me. “Lunch is just about ready, but I can cut some pears for you.”
“Oh no, I’m all right.” I leaned my staff against the nearest wall and swept my gaze over the table, which was covered with ginger and scallions, skinny cucumbers, and a pungent bowl of discarded fish intestines. Feeling unusually unproductive, I said, “Can I help with anything?”
“You’re our guest,” said Feilin, grabbing a knife to help her mother slice the ginger while the older woman finished braising the fish. “Just rest and wait a moment longer.”
I leaned against the table’s edge, watching the blade dance up and down.
I thought of Lilan and wondered about the last time I’d stood in a kitchen with my sister, discussing our day while preparing a home-cooked meal.
Work had been so busy since my mother’s death and my father’s illness that I’d hardly spent any time at home in the past two years.
Even when I was there, I was too busy planning for my next job to linger on such small, intimate moments.
Your mind needs a break too, Baba had told me. Perhaps he’d been right to ask me to take a pause. I felt a sudden urge to see his face, to hold his hand and breathe in the cotton scent of him.
“It smells heavenly,” I said, watching the two women work in companionable quiet.
“My mother’s an excellent cook,” said Feilin, smiling over her shoulder. “They say that warm, delicious foods are good for the hurting heart. I wouldn’t have survived my husband’s death if not for her nagging me to eat every day.”
I didn’t say aloud that both women looked as if they could eat more, haggard as they were.
I glanced at the door, remembering someone else who needed food and energy. “Has Ren eaten yet?”
“He had a mantou this morning,” said Feilin. Her hands stilled, and she looked back up at me. “Is he very ill, Mistress Kang?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Well, he’s obviously alive,” Feilin said slowly, every word prompting my pulse to quicken. “But he says he needs the Fu talisman to retain his strength.”
“He said what?”
I started for the door but was stopped by Feilin’s hand on my arm.
“It was an accident,” she blurted. “He didn’t mean to tell. He was approached by some of the neighborhood kids who were curious, and … well, his hood fell back while they were playing.”
I inhaled deeply, biting back a curse. Of course Ren would do something so careless. This was precisely why I’d tried to keep him away from the living as much as possible. And now he’d gone and done the exact thing I’d wanted to avoid.
Yet Feilin’s response was strangely calm.
I studied her, hesitant. “You know about the talisman, but you aren’t afraid?”
Feilin laughed, the sound like gasps through a pipe, and she released her hold on me. From behind, her mother’s lips twitched in amusement.
“Our town is protected by a powerful spirit,” said Feilin. “Why should we fear a boy with a yellow slip of paper on his forehead?”
“Don’t you fear misfortune?” I eyed her, searching for an awareness of the misfortune that already seemed to plague the residents.
“Your friend isn’t yet dead, which means he isn’t a true reanimated corpse. So, no, we aren’t concerned.”
Ren had said a similar thing before, but I hadn’t thought that anyone but him would believe it. Xiatang was a stranger town than I’d expected, and I hadn’t even encountered its famed spirit yet. Still, it was a relief to know that the townsfolk wouldn’t be chasing us out for superstition’s sake.
“Thank you for your understanding,” I said, inclining my head. “I know it’s an unusual situation.”
Feilin waved her hand dismissively, then nodded at the door. “You may as well tell Ren to come in for lunch. We should be finished in just a few minutes.”
I accepted her suggestion and retrieved my staff.
Despite the daylight, the town appeared as bloodless as before.
Residents shuffled along the main roads, going sluggishly about their business, and children and stray dogs frolicked halfheartedly at the fringes.
Though the passersby nodded courteously at one another, there was an eeriness behind their smiles, as if they were in a trance—
No, as if they were walking corpses.
I didn’t see Ren anywhere near the house, meaning he must’ve wandered farther into the town. Feilin had mentioned gossiping aunties. Perhaps he was near the marketplace.
Recalling the row of closed-up shops that we’d passed the previous day, I turned right, keeping an eye out. I recognized Ren’s tall frame standing beside a stall selling rolls of brocade. It was surprising how I could easily distinguish his back from the other shoppers.
A pair of older women loitered nearby, including Ren in their conversation. None of them displayed a hint of discomfort or fear. One of the women even placed her hand on Ren’s arm as she spoke, her painted lips garish against her sickly complexion. The color reminded me, disturbingly, of Yuyan.
Just then, a movement caught my eye, and I looked away from Ren and the aunties to see a man leaning against the inner lip of an alleyway across the street.
He appeared to be around Baba’s age, with a long gray beard and a matching topknot bound by leather.
His arms were crossed, hands buried underneath the long sleeves of his gray-green pao.
Most noteworthy, however, were his eyes, made darker beneath a bristly pair of brows.
Eyes that were glaring at me.
The moment I met his gaze, he turned and disappeared down the narrow lane. He looked just as Feilin had described. Heart quickening, I bolted after him.